Imprints: Weary Step Towards The Spring
by kay.heartscry
Summary: [VinTifa][OneShot] Tifa must learn to close her doors to things that will hurt her. Vincent must learn to open his heart to things that could heal him. Changing is a hard task and some grow tired before they are done.


Disclaimer: I don't own any of ff7 characters. And you know it. And I know it. So really, why must I type this every time?

-o-x-o-x-o-

**Imprints: Weary Steps Towards the Spring**

"You're back." She gave him a gentle smile. "I can take your bags upstairs, why don't you get some rest?"

"Thanks, Tif…" His azure eyes shifted from her features to the ground. Dragging more dirt than could be cleaned in one night inside from his shoes and clothes, the young blonde sauntered (more so limped) up the creaking steps towards his designated room.

Lockheart peaked past the doorway from which he strolled in from and saw his beloved yet oversized sword and a large muddy duffel bag. Oh, the joy she would have carrying that inside her once clean and sparkling home. With a sigh, she ignored her inner protests and reached for the luggage.

-o-x-o-x-o-

"I'm… surprised at how much you've done with the place." Cloud's earthshaking grin was directed at her and it was making her knees tremble. How could she not have learned anything over after these two years?

Tifa sharply exhaled, hoping that was close enough to a laugh. "Yeah, I… had some help painting the kitchen and my room. Then the furniture looked a little out of place so I bought some new pieces."

Damn.

Was she rambling?

Mentally slapping herself, she forced anymore unnecessary words from coming out. The morning seemed to crawl by with excruciatingly slug-like speed; all the while he burned her in her chair with his amazing Mako irises. She tried to focus her attention on the birds chirping outside; perched and singing with the children playing in the summer sun.

-o-x-o-x-o-

"Vince?" Opening the large mansion doors, the martial artist peeped into the house.

"Vincent? Valentine? Vincent Valentine?" She called his name over and over again. When no reply came, she, by then, knew exactly where he was.

A year and a half ago, she had found him there and ever since Cloud had returned, he'd been spending more and more time in there. With all that free time, the man could've at least visited her every other day like he used to. She sure as hell could've used him last night when she _almost_ succumbed to their ex-leader and her childhood friend's constant seducing advances.

As she moved, she leaped over cracks in the floorboards without hesitation; she'd made so many trips around this manor, it was only natural to know where not to step anymore. However, today, she stumbled a couple of times, mainly because of her bundled clothing. The weather had grown chilly as autumn slowly approached.

She stared at the coffin with a weary gaze. How many times had she had to come get him down here? Reaching for the edge of the lid, she pulled it open.

Her breath caught in her throat; no matter how many times she's seen his sleeping form, she would never _ever_ grow bored or any less astonished at his utter beauty. Beauty was the perfect- no, _only_ word to describe how he looked when he was in this dreaming state.

His lips parted a bit, while his shirt was slightly unbuttoned at the top, allowing her to see his collarbone. He donned his usual black attire, minus the cloak. Fleshy arm rested at his side while metallic claw lay across his stomach. She had always been fascinated by the prosthetic. She watched the light gleam across its smooth surface.

"Are you done staring or must I give you another ten minutes?" Even smoother than the metal on his left hand, his voice drawled, however, not without a hint of drowsiness. Tifa flicked her eyes up to meet another pair of enticingly red irises.

"Nah, I'll just look at it more later." She intertwined her fingers behind her back as she waited for him to sit up and wipe the sleep from his expression. Though he always did look a smidge tired no matter what the circumstances. "How've you been?"

"Fairly alright. Yourself?" He reached for his signature red cape when he saw her frown; with a sigh, he retracted his arm back to his side. He had learned not to wear the shroud for the times he was with her; she seemed to like gawking at his face. Though he hadn't grabbed the blood-colored fabric, she still wasn't satisfied.

"I don't know, _Vincent_. How _am_ I? You usually would know. But you know why you don't know?" Placing her hands on her hips, the young woman looked more like an angered mother.

His pale features remained as emotionless as ever, but, he glanced behind her and around the room quickly, checking to see if there was something that had pissed her off beforehand. He arched a brow when he saw nothing out of place, therefore, only leaving him to be the primary reason of her displeasure. "Because you have yet to tell me?"

"It's because you haven't been visiting since Cloud came back. What's been going on?" Her pink lips pouted and he almost groaned out of frustration. Damn her pity-me look.

"No reason in particular. I shall visit you tomorrow." She let out a loud 'hey' as he began to shut the coffin cover once more. Stopping, he sat back up and annoyance simmered quietly in his expression.

"I came all the way here and you can't even talk to me for more than three minutes. Do I really bug you that much?" Her arms fell to her sides as she glued on a bubbly facial cast.

He reached over and grabbed her wrist, holding it in his warm palm, he spoke with almost sincerity. "You 'bug' me _more_ than much."

Tearing the hand away, a glint of amusement glittered in his eyes.

"Jerk!" Sticking her tongue out at him wasn't exactly the best idea that she'd ever come up with but it was the only thing she could think of to do at the moment.

"Please, dear Tifa, I am in _dire_ need of rest." His eyes begged for release. When she gave no response, he began to shut his tomb once again.

"Hey!" Vincent nearly screamed out in aggravation as she called out in urgency, not wanting the conversation to die just quite yet. "Why do you always sleep in that coffin?"

"Is it not obvious?" He lay down, lazily gazing at the nothing.

She was fixated by him and his utter power of indifference. "Uhh…?"

"It is simply the best place to get away from the world... and the people or troubles that may come along with it." A hint of tease entered his normally monotone voice.

With strong muscles, Tifa shot him a dirty look before whipping the top over his casket.

-o-x-o-x-o-

Christmas snow gently crunched under his feet as he walked. He held in one arm a bag of groceries and the other stayed concealed beneath his cloak. That was a reason why he loved winter; an excuse to throw on the old cape and not have to worry about Tifa's badgering.

He creaked the door of his home open; there was never any reason to lock it, thieves knew there was nothing worth stealing, especially when they had to weigh the chance of getting a bullet between the eyes, and majority of the town feared the mansion anyways. Feared it more than death.

And he did not blame them.

Sometimes this mansion scared him too.

Almost on cue, something crashed from the basement. Suddenly alert (as if he wasn't already), Vincent stealthily moved down the stairs and into the lower level. The lid on his coffin was open slightly, and within seconds of processing this fact, he noted a subject squirm a bit inside it.

Outstretching his golden and vicious claw's digits, he cut the distance between him and his unseen trespasser. Ready to strike with the deadly arm, he shoved the top of his casket off. A shriek echoed through the walls of the mansion.

"Vince! What the hell are you doing!" Lockheart's hand clenched over her speeding heart; her breathing was short and her eyes wide from receding fear. "You scared the shit out of me!"

"What are you doing here?" The shooter gazed down at her, his crimson eyes unreadable.

She calmed herself from the initial shock. Smiling, almost forcedly, invisible tears were evident in her features. "I'm sleeping, what does it look like?"

Her voice was full of life and lighthearted, however, he could see the desolate and dead look behind her mask. And he wondered, silently of course, if she was simply lighthearted because the rest of it had been taken from her by a young, stupid blonde warrior. "It appears you have stolen my sleeping place."

"Mighty shame, big boy, you'll just have to sleep in, god forbid, a bed!" Her voice was more bitter than sarcastic. He wasn't tempted to retort with an equally harsh tone though. He'd been in a place like her before.

"I believe, instead, I will wait until you tell me what is wrong." She lay there, quiet for the longest time. Tifa wrapped her arms around herself; she hadn't grabbed anything like a jacket when she rushed out the door.

He saw her shiver. Foolish girl was only dressed in a pair of sweat pants and an orange spaghetti-strap tank top.

She shifted onto her side; her back to him. Suddenly, she felt a heavy material being draped over her. She let out a barely audible 'Thank you' but knowing him, he'd heard it.

More time ticked on by as he stood, boring his eyes into her back.

"… He left." Tifa's voice ringed in both their ears. A fire ignited behind her eyes and they began to burn once more. They glittered with new moisture.

"Cloud?"

"… Yeah…" She sobbed quietly into the puffy pillow-sack sewn into the insides of the coffin. However, Vincent's acute hearing easily picked it up.

"Would you… like to know the reason I have been refraining to visit?"

She knew this was probably some way to change the subject; her crying was most likely making him uncomfortable. She sighed once more than said. "Sure."

"It is because _he_ is…, let's say, not my favorite person on this Planet. And I am not sure what I would do to him if I were to be near him for more than five moments." His voice was laced with some emotion that she couldn't touch. She gave him no reply.

She didn't know what to say.

Tifa heard him sigh loudly. He now spoke without any feeling. "I will go find your lover-boy."

"What?" She shot up quickly as he began to walk away. "You don't have to do that."

He twisted his neck and looked back at her. There was a passion for something hidden underneath and it made her uneasy. Its intensity charred her to the very bone and soul. It sank it's fangs into her and refused to let go. His face was full of emotion for once and she couldn't read it. With a whisper, almost as if the sound could rip this moment like tissue. "Will it make you happy?"

He kept watching her with those eyes, until she had to look away. He took it as an answer of some sort and continued towards the stairs. A surge of panic shook her very being. Leaping out of the coffin, Tifa couldn't even think before she found herself pressed against his back and her arms encircling his waist and chest, begging him not to leave her alone; not to go.

He paused. Tensed. And never relaxed.

He was so warm; she wasn't cold anymore. Not even in her skimpy wear. She could feel his perfectly sculpted muscles through his shirt. So very perfect.

Tip-toeing, she pressed her lips against the nape of his neck. Her hands trailed down his front and slipped past his waistband.

With ferocious strength, Vincent seized her wrists. His hands, real and fake, were crushing her thin arms as he pulled them away from him. His speech was gruff and almost ragged. "Don't."

"But-" She protested, yet still trying to hold back the pain that was shooting up and down her arms. Her fingers had grown numb.

"Go home, Tifa." He released the hands and took a step away from her. She almost followed but his tone stopped her dead. It was pleading and desperate. On the verge of losing control. "_Please_."

-o-x-o-x-o-

She stared out the window, wondering if Vincent would come over like he had said he might the day before. Nothing had changed from that day months ago. Well, not quite. He had begun to pop in to see her like how he had before; before Cloud had come and disappeared.

The streets were empty, but it was understandable. No one in their right mind liked this weather. Winter had yet to leave however spring's warmth had managed to come and melt all the snow into puddles of sloppy mush. But soon the spring would come with its new beginnings while the memories of the past seasons would fade and be replaced by the new ones coming. However, the disgusting slush would stay until that new spring arrived. And this time of year seemed to drag on longer than everything else. Kids hated it. Parents hated it. Everyone hated it.

But Vince didn't seem to mind it too much.

But it was Vincent Valentine. He was strange and different in much more ways than one. And that was what probably kept her so interested.

The rapping of knuckles against her door made her smile. Seems like he really did decide to come today. She rushed to the door and swung it open.

Cerulean blue pools gazed back at her. "Hey."

-o-x-o-x-o-

Walking through that same slush that she had been pondering about before, Tifa made her way to the mansion. God, her socks were soaked. She hated this.

_Everyone_ hated this weather.

Entering the large house, she made her way down to the basement. Just as she had guessed, there he was. In his awe-astounding beauty; laying peacefully. Silently, she circled him before stopping above his head. She leaned against the wood and stared down at him.

"I know you're awake." A ghost of a smile danced on his lips as he unleashed his demon-red eyes from their faux sleepy prison.

"You are getting good at this."

"Cloud's back in town." She picked up a piece of his ebony hair and began to play with it.

"Yes. I saw him." Her own long strands fell into not only her eyes, but his also as she bent over the edge of the casket.

Trying to keep her voice as nonchalant as possible, though it was not her forte, she spoke. "Why don't you like him?"

"Because… he had hurt you." He reached upward and awkwardly brushed some away from her face; it was a slightly challenging task since she was up-side down in his view.

No words were exchanged for awhile. They simply stared at each other. Tifa continued to toy with his hair unconsciously.

"If you excuse me, I believe I shall return to my rest for I am very tired. And you may return to Cloud." Turning his face away from her, he pulled the small braid she had begun to make away from her nimble fingers.

"I told him to stay in the Inn instead, you know." She wanted him to understand. Cloud wasn't what she wanted anymore. If only she knew what she wanted now.

"Oh?" It was a rhetorical question and he hadn't even peaked out from one of his eyes. His arm came up and gripped the cover to his coffin and began to slide of shut.

Sensing his want to kill the conversation, she grabbed the edge of the lid also, making sure he couldn't close himself away from her. "Why do you worry and help me so much?"

He let his eyes drift open; the windows to his soul. Yet Vincent wouldn't look at her.

"Why? Why do you do so much for me but at the same time, it feels like you're trying to repel me?" With those last words, he whipped his head over and gaped at her in disbelief.

"Tifa, I did not intend to push you away in any sort." A hint of distress was in his voice, almost wanting her to have faith in what he was saying.

"How am I supposed to believe that? You help me paint my house and listen to my problems but the next thing I know, you're locking yourself up in a coffin all day instead of wanting to see me." Ruby stars glittered with the beginning of tears. Why did it hurt so much to try and understand him? Would the world end if he let her into his little world? Would hell freeze over if he would just open up and let her read some of his thoughts?

He watched her. Almost like he was having an internal conflict.

Without a moments notice, his hand flew up and clutched the back of her head. He leaned upwards, off his cushioned casket, and let his lips smooch hers. He kissed her without any restraint; full of fury, passion and obsession.

It made her mind swirl with delight.

He pulled his mouth away eventually (eventually…) and looked away once more.

She was still trying to recover.

"Would… you like to accompany me to dinner?"

A blush crept into his cheeks as he asked her, but it was nowhere in comparison to how cherry hers were. She gave a small giggle. "I thought you were tired."

Tifa began to walk ahead, knowing that he could catch up easily.

"Hmm. Did I give you that impression?" Vincent got out of the coffin and shut it before following her out; with more energy, he walked with her outside and through the slush.

* * *

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